I am going on an adventure!

What the fuck was I thinking?
Don’t get me wrong. I have dreamt about this for so damn long. For the last year, I’ve focused so badly on my Erasmus. I have that feeling, you see. A voice inside me that constantly says: you have to go. You know it.

I see this adventure as so much more than just partying in another country. For me, this is what I want to do throughout my life. It’s my personal and official rehearsal.

But GOD this is exciting. And scary as fuck. I am all kinds of happy, mixed in with some random panic attacks.

Because what if it’s not what I expect from it? What if it’s not my thing? What if I don’t make friends?

I am going to LIVE here. FOR 5 MONTHS. This is ridiculous.

Seriously. Calm the fuck down ‘woeman’.

I don’t even have the words to describe my first impressions. The typical buildings, the narrow side streets, the little taverns with the best paella in the world. The word “Incredible” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You know, I have (nearly) nothing that keeps me at home; until recently. I fell in love. I know: UGH.
But it’s been done. He’s under my skin. For the first time in three years, a man knocked me off my feet.
And as I was wandering around the city after dinner, amazed and excited with all the impressions and atmosphere, I couldn’t help but to think: He would also ab-so-lutely love this as much as I do. We could go there for dinner and then in this bar for some “Agua de Valencia”. That shit is tasty as fuck. With vodka. Which you don’t taste. Hehe.

A part of me wants to share this adventure with him. I want him to experience all of this with me.
A famous movie quote pops up in my mind.
 “..Because happiness is only real when shared”

But then again. This is something I have to do. I need to do. But on my own.

This is a gift. My gift to myself.

And I am thrilled to see how the hell this will turn out.